


Golden blades on ice skates

by shamelessllamapeanutthing



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Katsuki Yuuri in Russia, M/M, Mindless Fluff, No Angst, Tattooed Yuuri, Tattoos, Victor is smitten, because self-indulgence, don't look at me, who's thirsty for Yuuri's thighs?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23618818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessllamapeanutthing/pseuds/shamelessllamapeanutthing
Summary: Yuuri gets a tattoo.aka proof Katsuki Yuuri is just as extra and impulsive as his fiancé. Fucking soulmates, I tell you.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 18
Kudos: 232





	Golden blades on ice skates

**Author's Note:**

> Did I grow sick of battling with an elaborate and stubborn AU that just won't come together and decided to indulge my kinks? Hell yes.  
> Unedited, we die like heathens.

As it was, Yuuri had never really thought about tattoos.

In his teens, he didn’t have an entire Pinterest board dedicated solely to tattoos he would want to get once he was an adult the way Yuri Plisetsky did. In college, he didn’t swoon when he caught sight of a heavily tattooed person like Phichit used to. In his early twenties, he didn’t give his parents a headache, trying to get them to let him use the onsen despite having a huge dragon running up his spine as Mari had. All in all, he never cared about ink. It was just something that people liked, which he had never really thought about.

Until the day it wasn’t.

He just woke up one morning with a single-minded focus devoted to this abrupt idea he seemingly got while he was asleep, namely, _you know what would really surprise Victor? A tattoo._

The fact of the matter was, that it would. It would blow the Russian’s mind. Hell, it had blown Yuuri’s mind when he came to terms with the fact that he had conjured up that idea out of no-fucking-where. He couldn’t figure out what he wanted, where he wanted it, _why_ he wanted it or how he was going to get it.

More importantly, he couldn’t figure out why he was so sold on the idea.

There was a phase where Mari had tried to get him to show some interest in tattoos, more because she wanted help deciding which dragon design looked better and less because she wanted him to get one. He had studiously avoided giving her his opinion because he didn’t find himself ready to deal with the fact that she was going _to get it inked on her body permanently,_ and that his choice would count in the final decision. As one of the douchebag seniors he had crushed on, hooked up with and then been abandoned by in college said it, that was ‘too much commitment.’

Now, with a ring on his finger and Victor’s loving gaze etched into the back of his eyelids like the most beautiful brand he could burn into his soul, 'commitment' had transcended from the territory of a phobia to something desirable.

Not that he was thinking that deeply about it.

He couldn’t explain his relative nonchalance towards something this monumental, but he figured he was in one of his moods. It really didn’t have to be that big of a deal, if he didn’t make it so.

‘ _Please, Kami, don’t let me make it so.’_

“I want a tattoo.” He declared with the sort of lack of preamble that is exclusive, but not necessarily, to siblings who have put up with each other’s whims all their lives. Mari stared.

Then grinned.

That was too much expressiveness for his stoic, laid-back sister but if it didn’t ring any alarm bells in his mind, it’s simply because of how keyed up he was. He still wasn’t all too sure about whether he satisfied Victor in bed or not, despite Victor’s seemingly never-ending thirst for him and near hourly reminders that Yuuri was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. As comfortable as the two had grown around each other, when physical intimacy bled into sexual intimacy, he found himself feeling nervous around Victor (sex god) Nikiforov.

It was one of the main reasons he hadn’t cashed in on Victor’s offer to bottom. He needed time.

So if a little tasteful ink helped his sex appeal, which so many people were convinced it did, why not?

“Do you have any idea what you want?”, Mari cocked a brow, eyes glinting.

“Yes, actually.”

…

“I am missing you.”

He watched Victor’s entire face soften, the stormy vibrance of his blue eyes melting into the fiercely gentle beauty of open seas. They smiled at each other.

“I miss you too, Yuuri.”

They had decided to postpone the shift to St. Petersburg till after the Russian Nationals so Victor could be fully focussed on the competition and the distance was killing both of them.

It had also led to some very _exciting_ FaceTime calls late into the night, but we’ll leave that for another story.

“How are the programs coming along?”

As impulsive as Victor seemed to be, let it never be forgotten that he was a goddamn genius when it came to ice-skating. He had rough ideas and music short-listed in case Yuuri failed to come up with a free program song from back when they were gearing up for the GPF so it had taken two days for him to come out with a long program he could use. The Short was something Yakov had decided to recycle from one of his old programs, heavily based but with modifications.

Victor was kind of bitter about that.

“They’re coming out well enough to get through Nationals. Might have to actually work for it this time, though.” Victor joked. Yuuri decided not to comment on how, behind the cocky tone, the words were a lot less confident.

They had decided to play to Victor’s strengths. Difficult jumps and combinations and raking up the PCS Yurio let slip by him. There was no one else who posed a serious threat to Victor.

“If I know someone who can, it’s you.”, Yuuri said.

“I am more excited about getting to see you than getting gold at the Nationals, Yuuri.”

“Just another week now, coach.”

…

Laying back on that rickety bed, Yuuri began to register his first feelings of doubt, though it did have more to do with Ichigo’s leering gaze than any actual doubts regarding getting the ink itself.

Mari smacked the brown-haired man for the third time in the fifteen minutes they had been here. He didn’t seem to let it get to him.

“He’s my baby brother, stop fucking staring at him like you’re going to eat him up.”

It may have been worth mentioning that the baby brother was engaged but Mari, bless her heart, had never before let Yuuri’s lack of a fiancé figure into an excuse to _not_ try to beat all her friends away from him like a protective father, so it was only fair that it wasn’t the first reason that came to her mind now. Yuuri for his part remained quiet because if he started talking, he knew he would freak out.

Ichigo and Mari exchanged a few more words he studiously tuned out before the man turned to Yuuri. With Japan’s standing biases against tattoos and Hasetsu being only a very small part of it, it was of no surprise that he was going to have to get it illegally, or that Mari knew someone who’d ink him illegally. His sister had shady friends, it was a Fact.

As the miniature drill kicked up with a horribly insistent buzz, Yuuri’s heart hammered in his chest. He belatedly wondered if he could pay someone to fix all tattoo machines with silencers, before remembering he was nowhere near rich enough.

As the gun neared his skin, his eyes widened till he was clutching on to Mari’s hand like it was the lack of touch that would pain him and not the steadily advancing tool of death. In the nick of the moment, as treacherous as the idea of getting a tattoo in the first place, another _brilliant_ (scary) thought seeped into his mind and started beating drums inside his head.

“WAIT!”

Ichigo froze, Mari gasped and Yuuri realized it probably wasn’t the best of ideas to scream at someone holding a fucking drilling machine so close to your skin, but he was an idiot and there was nothing to be done. It was only Ichigo’s experience that made him stop in time, clearly.

“Do you have golden ink?”

…

Gazing at the little tattoo back home, Yuuri smiled. It had turned out great, and it was something he felt so strongly about that he knew he won’t come to regret it.

It hadn’t even hurt that bad, to be honest.

It was difficult not showing it off to Victor when they video-called that night, but he knew he would rather see Victor’s reaction face-to-face so he kept grinning like a dork the entire time, and didn’t fess up when Victor whined at him to tell him why he was so happy. 

…

Victor took gold by a hairsbreadth, and found it in him to actually be happy about it after god alone knew how many years because living legend as he was, nobody was expecting him to. Critics all over had said that while he would probably make the podium, a few days was too little time for him to actually grab the gold from Yuri Plisetsky. Most of the ice-skating fan base had agreed. Secretly, Victor had told Yuuri, Yakov agreed too.

He had managed to surprise his audience again, and he was happy about that.

… but mostly about the fact that he was going to see Yuuri in a day now.

When Yuuri called to congratulate, Victor didn’t take a full minute to flip the topic to Yuuri’s imminent arrival and gushed for half an hour about where they could go, what they would eat, how they would redecorate _their_ apartment to fit both of their tastes, all topics they had discussed before but it still left them both breathless. It was crazy, sappy and Victor won’t have it any other way.

He couldn’t stop beaming.

…

Yuuri was thrumming with excitement as he scanned the crowds for the familiar head of (“ _Platinum, not silver, Yuuri!” Victor insisted.)_ hair as he stood outside the airport terminal but his new ink wasn’t the cause of it. The tattoos had pretty much flown out of his mind as the mounting excitement of seeing Victor after about half a month wrapped him in soft, fuzzy happiness that his anxiety had decided to leave alone, for once.

He had craved the Russian man’s presence too much to fixate on anything other than how much he needed it.

So, when his eyes met the sea blue of Victor’s, he all but threw himself at him, barely remembering to drag his luggage with him, matching grins splitting their faces into ecstatic expressions. Victor’s hands found his hips and he was lifted into a mini twirl that had him burying his face in his fiancé’s neck because _now Victor had given him a new fetish, goddamnit._

They were so, so in love with each other it felt like they could scarce contain the feeling between themselves sometimes and it spilled out around them, coloring the world prettier, brighter shades than either of them remembered it being.

…

Victor had a hot pink convertible. Yuuri didn’t know why he expected otherwise.

…

“No, no, wait a minute.”

Victor gestured for Yuuri to stop with an almost bashful grin on his lips. He couldn’t stop smiling, Yuuri couldn’t stop smiling. Yurio had said something about how they were perpetually stuck in a gross pining-and-honeymooning-at-the-same-time phase and it suddenly made sense to the Japanese skater.

Yuuri nodded and let the man unlock the door to his, no, their apartment. The door hadn’t even opened fully before he was subjected to Makka’s favored missile launch greeting and slobbering kisses and the only reason he maintained his balance was because he was expecting it.

Victor chuckled and dragged Yuuri’s suitcase inside the apartment. The rest of his stuff was going to arrive in two days. Yuuri stayed put outside as per his instructions, only to have him bounding back seconds later. Victor whistled softly and Makkachin withdrew from Yuuri’s indulgent pets, following the suitcase inside. Before Yuuri could even fully straighten, he found himself getting picked up. Victor’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and the back of his knees and Yuuri felt himself blushing even as he huddled closer, tucking his face under Victor’s chin. This was quickly becoming a _thing_ and he loved it.

“What are you doing?” He chuckled breathily into Victor’s skin, mouth pressing words against his throat. Victor’s hands tightened.

“You’re coming home for the first time.” Victor said, before carrying Yuuri into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind them.

Indulging himself, Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck. They were inside now, but neither of them seemed to want to let go, content to relish in this beautiful, new, heady feeling they couldn’t name no matter how hard they tried.

Eventually, Victor grew tired and set Yuuri down.

“Bet I could lift you for longer.” Yuuri teased him.

“I am taller than you.” Victor reminded, but the tips of his ears were red and his eyes skittish. It was endearing.

Yuuri turned, eyes raking over the cool palettes of blue, silver and white that the living room was painted in, leading into the open kitchenette to the side. It was spacious and breathy.

“It’s empty.”, Victor would shrug and tell him, later. “It was waiting for you.”

Yuuri would blush and tell him he was a dork.

…

It wasn’t until a day later that Victor uncovered Yuuri’s little surprise.

They had decided early on to take their time with this and Victor found twenty-four hours was the threshold of his patience, but he was willing to back down if Yuuri so wanted and it must have shown in the hesitant way he kissed his fiancé on the couch the next evening, for Yuuri gave him a soft smile and pulled him closer by his shirt.

They giggled and bit onto each other’s lips, and _wait why did he feel sixteen again?_ It wasn’t until he had pulled Yuuri’s glasses and his own shirt off till the Japanese broke out of his embrace and stood up, taking his hand and dragging him off to the bedroom.

Victor had been prepared for Yuuri being nervous, unsure, hesitant, and he was well aware that they might still surface as delayed reactions but for now, he let himself dive face-first into the amazing feeling of Yuuri moving about their apartment so comfortably as if it had never not been his.

Just past the doorway, Yuuri turned and cupped Victor’s face in his palms before kissing him, deep, slow and insistent. Victor moaned and his hands circled Yuuri’s waist, grabbing his ass and squeezing tight enough to draw a whimper-giggle from him that was unique to Yuuri and Yuuri alone.

Breaking the kiss, Yuuri laid tiny ones down his cheek and jaw before stepping back towards the bed. Picking onto the hint quickly, Victor crowded him closer and then onto the mattress, lips sucking a reddening mark on his neck. He, himself had a thing for being marked and was hoping to lead by example here.

Yuuri bit down on his exposed collarbone and Victor groaned in encouragement. The most foolproof way of getting Yuuri to do something was doing it to him.

As lips wandered lower and hands went from caressing skin to rubbing and stroking insistently, their breaths grew heavier. Victor could feel himself straining against his pants, and sucking on an earlobe, he ground his hips against Yuuri’s, cheering mentally when he realized Yuuri was similarly worked up.

His fingers skimmed the bare skin of Yuuri’s hips, trailing down the front of his sweatpants.

“May I?”, he questioned, lips kissing up the back of Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri nodded. “Hurry,” he breathed. Victor bit his lip.

Soon enough, the sweatpants had been discarded, Yuuri’s boxers following close behind. Smiling shyly, Yuuri parted his legs to make space for Victor, who knelt down and leveled his face with Yuuri’s cock all too eagerly. He was biting around the soft, sensitive skin of Yuuri’s thighs, listening to him moan and dragging his hands to tangle in his hair when Victor caught sight of it.

The tattoo.

That tattoo of skates.

The tattoo of skates with golden blades.

The tattoo of _his_ skates nestled on the inner side of Yuuri’s right thigh, close to his crotch, tiny and still half-scabbing.

He could only imagine what he looked like when Yuuri started chuckling.

“Yeah, I forgot about that.”

He dragged his eyes up to Yuuri’s. Any other day and he would find himself unwilling to look away, but just then he was unable to tear his gaze away from the little tattoo.

Beneath him, Yuuri rose to his elbows, chest heaving and brows raised. He was biting into his lower lip and _this was really not fair. Victor was old and frail of heart, christ._

“Um, do you like it?”

“Remember when I told you I think your eyes are my favorite thing about you?” He wasn’t aware that he was speaking, not fully.

“Yeah?” There was a grin in Yuuri’s tone.

“I think I might have to reconsider.”

Yuuri breathed out a laugh and Victor pressed a finger to the tattoo experimentally. When it didn’t rub off, his lips followed.

His chest felt full and he filed away the sweet, _sweet_ emotions to be examined later. He would think about the meaning of Yuuri getting a tattoo devoted solely to him the next morning and blush, and then bubble with the need to tell someone so he would croon to Makkachin and when Yuuri would catch sight of him, he would blush crimson himself and forget how to English for two solid minutes.

For now, he rested soft kisses into his fiancé’s skin before letting his lips trail up to the underside of his balls.

…

Spent and sated, a good two hours later, Victor glanced over at Yuuri, struck with the _best idea ever._

Yuuri watched him hop up excitedly, before grabbing his phone and placing himself back between Yuuri’s legs, which he couldn’t really feel at the moment.

“Victor, what are you doing?”, he questioned, suspicion mounting as Victor aimed the phone towards the tattoo. 

“Taking a picture for Instagram”, he hummed, shamelessly. “Would you switch on the lamp, please? There’s not enough light and I try to avoid using flash as much as possible.”

With a horrified gasp, Yuuri reached forward and tore Victor’s phone out of his grip.

“You’re not posting that online!”, he squealed.

“Why? I will crop out your dick obviously.”

“I will throw out all of your hair gel, I swear to god Victor Nikiforov, don’t even think about it!”

“Why are you so mean, Yuuri?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what y'all thought. I live for feedback.
> 
> Come scream at me about YOI on [my YOI side blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ice-malice) or [my main](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/shamelessllamapeanutthing)


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